Souls
by mebh
Summary: A few sketches of Mustang's past, present and future, borrowing daemons from His Dark Materials. A little project with disastergirl.
1. Gross Intrusions

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

This is something of a departure for disastergirl and I. We started chatting about how fun it would be to explore FMA with daemons, and then this sort of happened. It'll be a collection of drabbles between the two of us starting here. They are very much an exercise in play, so please don't expect too much! We thought Mustang being vaguely Azriel-ly would need a badass leopard daemon, so there we are^^ There are a couple of overarching plot ideas, but we'll see if they ever come to fruition.

**Crossover?** I initially posted this as a crossover before releasing that it isn't really. To my mind, crossovers require more of an integration between both worlds. The only thing we've taken from HDM are the daemons, everything else takes place in the FMA theatre, if you like.

Also, FF doesn't seem to be letting me adjust the status to 'in progress'. Boo! I'll try again later!

We might take requests if anyone has any interest in this universe. We'll see lol.

Enjoy :p

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**ISHBAL**

Immediately on arriving back at camp, the relieved troops fell into a collective stupor. The mission was hard on them all; an early day affair when the sun was unbearably hot. Some of the younger and older troops were lying straight out under makeshift tents of jackets and cloaks. Mustang watched them with narrowed eyes from where he sat on a sandy, stoney hill. He too was exhausted, having supported Colonel Paston on the assault, but he was wary of falling into an early sleep. It was difficult enough to sleep at night as it was.

Ariadne lay behind him, panting heavily. They'd found scant shade beside a plump boulder. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Perfect was away from here: the desert and all of its dangers.

Mustang turned when Ariadne's warm, dry nose brushed the back of his hand. He looked down at her with hot, heavy eyes. Her gaze - ever steady - studied him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Mustang didn't answer. Instead, he rested his hand on top of her head. She mewed softly and pushed her face into his palm. Mustang closed his eyes and hung his head back, drunk from the sun. Ariadne had started purring.

"I've always admired that daemon of yours, Mustang."

Mustang opened his eyes and blinked heavily. He couldn't abide this. Not now. "Kimbley," he said. "I can't..."

Ariadne rose and slinked around Mustang until she stood to his right, her head resting against his upper arm.

"Ha!" Kimbley barked. "So protective! Who needs alchemy when you surround yourself with such strong ladies?"

Mustang sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired.

"Sometimes I wonder...," Kimbley said, quieter now, his eyes fixed on Ariadne. "What it would be like, to have a daemon like that..." His tongue darted out from between his thin lips. "I bet she's warm."

Mustang's arm vibrated with the force of the growl that built in his daemon's throat. The skin around her nose was bunched in warning as she surveyed the other alchemist. The bright yellow tips of her teeth shone from under her black lips, warning enough for any sane person. Lost, of course, on Kimbley. Mustang heaved a lead-heavy arm up and over his daemon. He fixed his fingers in her deep, soft fur.

"Kimbley... I'm not in the mood."

Kimbley's eyes darkened. He rushed forward onto one knee so that he was face to face with his younger comrade. Mustang didn't move an inch, but under his arm, Ariadne spat and contracted into a trembling mass of bunched muscles. She sucked in a noisy, guttural breath and growled again - fangs bared now. Her long tongue whipped over the front of her maw, one way then the other. Suddenly, like a storm appearing out of clear blue skies, she was furious.

"Ari," Mustang said quietly, calmly. His fingers tightened in her fur.

Kimbley smiled at her show of fury. "Mmm," he mused. "It must be hard Mustang. Trying to act the cold Major when you have this sore, sensitive kitty-cat at your side. You might have trained that pretty face of yours, but you'll never train her."

"She's not there to be trained," Mustang said, regretting his input immediately. It was always best to ignore Kimbley until he went away. Damn. "She is what she is."

Ariadne had dug her large back paws into the sand and was kicking them with pent up anger and anxiety. Her ears were pressed flat to the back of her head and her tail shot out like a dagger behind her. Mustang adjusted his grip on her side. Something wasn't right. Where had Kimbley been that day? Balashar? Kurut? There was a wildness to him... he was in need of letting go... Maybe Crimson's mission hadn't gone as well as his own.

"Yes," Kimbley grinned again, reaching a bony hand forward, his killer tattoo plain. "She certainly is..."

Mustang grabbed the other man's wrist with his free hand, just as Ariadne snapped a warning. Her jaw was dripping with saliva. Her green-grey eyes - Roy noted with a glance - were glassy with hate. He needed to get out of there.

Kimbley laughed. "Hasn't anyone told you, Flame?" Blue eyes darted up and to the side, just behind Roy. "I always take what I want."

Mustang spun where he sat as a needle point of pain struck his arm. His eyes widened - seeing vomiting and fits, shitting himself to death - as they fell on the pitch black python hooked onto his arm. In another beat, he realised it wasn't a real snake but Kimbley's daemon, and somehow, _somehow_, that was worse. He yelled and tried to snatch his arm away, but the serpent was massive, weighing perhaps the same as himself. Ariadne roared and pivoted, kicking sand out behind her like an opening fan. In the next moment, the snake, contorting and shifting in ways that confounded the mind, had pushed itself backwards and around Mustang's middle trapping his arms against his body. The young alchemist's eyes rolled back in his head as a wave of horrid discomfiture washed over him. He was touching someone else's daemon! He could feel its weight and energy press against his thrumming body. He pushed his biceps against the undulating tube of flesh but with no result - he was irreversibly stuck. Ariadne fell on the snake with all her force: claws and teeth slicing and gnashing. She roared incredulously: another daemon was touching _her _human. It was unheard of! With each blow, the snake merely tightened her hold on Mustang. It was getting harder to breath.

Kimbley laughed and clapped his hands, and for that one second, Mustang believed it was in celebration, but of course... of course it wasn't at all. It rarely was, with Kimbley.

"Ari!" Mustang cried, choking on even that much.

His beautiful girl, too consumed with his own danger, failed to heed his warning and so, with almost embarrassing ease, Kimbley had her in his sights.

"Ari!" Mustang shouted again. "Don't move, don't move, don't move, don't move..." he whispered with desperate urgency.

The Crimson Alchemist's hands hovered either side of her head. The leopard froze, struck by the rushing fear in her master's heart. Her eyes darted to Roy then to Bem, the snake daemon, before rising to Kimbley.

"Nice kitty," he sneered.

He lowered his hands to her head.

A cold shock ran through Mustang, stopping his heart for an instant. He gagged and had to swallow back bile as his insides turned on themselves, revolted utterly by this gross intrusion. Ariadne dared not roar, but shook violently where she stood. The strangest noise gargled out between her closed lips. In her distress, she was completely incapable of speech.

Mustang struggled within the python's hold, but he stilled as Bem's small black head appeared beside his own. "You got skinnier, Flame. Not much to you at all these days," she said quietly, then gave him a small but excruciating squeeze.

The alchemist emitted a pained 'ha' noise and Ariadne roared with renewed fervour, absolutely enraged by the impudence.

"I'll tear you to shreds, Bem," she growled.

Kimbley laughed and stroked her. His sweaty hand ran from her head to the very end of her long, rigid tail, snagging on her fur and matting it behind his movements. "Such a fine daemon. Such a pretty, powerful thing. The only one like her in Amestris, I'd wager."

Mustang shuddered within the python's hold. "You... ah!" he gasped, his head falling back as Kimbley's hand snaked under his daemon's body. Mustang could feel it all: the trespass and the alchemical charge of those deadly hands. Crimson continued to run his hands in circles in the soft white fur of Ariadne's breast and stomach. She was livid, and scared. She was _so _scared - above everything else. It was unbearable. "You bastard!" Mustang screamed when he recovered enough breath. Soon that too wasn't enough as Bem constricted her coils once more. He could feel his ribs strain under his uniform. Kimbley wasn't mad enough to kill him, was he?

The older man shook his head and purred, turning Ariadne's fur this way and that.

It was unbearable.

Ari shifted on her paws, uncertain eyes looking to her master for some direction, for some allowance to tear this man's throat out, no matter the cost.

It was unbearable.

Kimbley's blue eyes chilled to a deeper evil. His right hand tightened in the fur on her belly and a wicked smile carved its way onto his face. He drew back his left hand and struck the leopard with uncompromising force. Her head shot to the left.

That really was unbearable.

Mustang snapped his fingers and called a flame. Using alchemy on another servant of the nation was worthy of court martial, but he didn't care. Not now. He was going to kill the Crimson Alchemist.

The funnel of fire consumed the snake from its middle to its head. The serpent hissed - it's pale pink mouth wide - and it dropped from Roy's body. Already, with her natural, graceful, fierce, _beautiful _speed, Ariadne had leapt back and away from Kimbley's clutches. Her long tail evaded him by a hair's breadth, and she knew then that she was safe from the slow, if menacing, human. He had no chance of catching her again.

She fell on Bem whose scales stank with the something-burn of daemon flesh. Mustang rose and stumbled into Kimbley, knocking them both to the ground. Kimbley was laughing - _laughing_ - even though his daemon was seared and wounded from Mustang's uninhibited fire. The older man sneaked a punch in that caught Mustang on the under side of his jaw, then, to Mustang's disgust, managed another clap of his hands. Mustang wasted no more time, despite his bruised ribs and burning lungs. He swung his elbow back and into Kimbley's cheek, and in the same sweep brought his boot up and drove it down to trap one flailing arm. He caught the other with his knee, screaming with fury. Bones ground under his weight. He knew that if Ariadne's roars hadn't alerted the other troops by now, then his yelling certainly would, but it cost him little thought. He _wanted _them to see him kill this man.

Kimbley sobbed once and recovered. He drove his boot into Mustang's stomach, pushing the smaller man back. Mustang tumbled into the fighting daemons and took a nasty blow from Ariadne's flying claws. She turned - distracted - to spy the deep gash on his cheek and in the next moment was almost overcome by the writhing mass of scales and muscle. Kimbley flew to Mustang, hands outstretched and wrist bruised.

Mustang snapped and called a flame that danced above his gloved fingers. "You fool!" he cried. "I can burn you to a crisp from where I am! Fight like a man you sick, miserable coward!"

Kimbley spat. "Miserable? I'm the happiest man in Ishbal! This is like a trip to the theatre for me!"

Some young soldiers had crested the hill and stood shocked and mumbling at the sight of their unruly officers.

"You _are _miserable, Kimbley! You covet everyone else's happiness and pass your sneering off as gloating, but I know you!" Mustang shouted, then smiled to himself. Behind him, the daemons were locked at an impasse, each waiting for the other to strike. "You know you're sick. You know your daemon disgusts every man who lays eyes on it. You have a filthy heart, and you can never be free of it. You only have one road ahead of you, so you're travelling it as far as you can. I understand it... and I pity it. You're the saddest man I've ever met."

Kimbley laughed once, then again harder and longer. "You..." he said, bobbing his outstretched finger at Mustang. "You... are so..." He spat again, then stilled. His expression turned pensive, calm almost, as though the shadow of a cloud had strayed upon it.

Mustang took the moment to raise a throbbing hand to his aching side. It was a moment too long.

Kimbley roared and launched himself at his junior. Mustang - however - smaller, and so like his daemon - out-stepped him and caught his opponent's hand by those long fingers. He danced behind Kimbley, pulled his arm up and over the man's shoulder and broke all four fingers against the man's own back. Kimbley fell to his knees, then laughed, then howled into his purpling fist. Mustang skidded in the sand, swivelled and grabbed hold of Kimbley's greasy ponytail.

The troops behind him on the hill were nervous and their conversation bubbled with anxious speculation.

Mustang drew a dagger from his belt. As Kimbley knelt, nursing his fingers, Mustang held the blade against his neck. Murder was rich in his heart. Ariadne had since vanquished the snake, and had her pinned with both paws, the scaled throat in her large, vicious maw.

"Flame!"

Mustang shook his head and readied himself for the coup de grace.

"Major Mustang stand down!" a deep voice boomed.

Grande.

Mustang adjusted his stance and pulled Kimbley by the hair, exposing his long, pale throat to the sun and his killing blade.

A shot rang out and a bullet sliced a trough in Mustang's cheek. His attention, was well and truly got.

Grande stormed down the sand blown rocks to where both men panted.

"This is some show of officers!" the man shouted, enraged. "I ought to have you both strung up for conduct like this."

"Sir-" Mustang started and was promptly stopped by a cuff to the jaw.

"You!" Grande turned on him. The huge boar at his side marched off towards the hissing daemons. "Get to my quarters now."

Mustang licked his lips. "Sir,... let me-"

Another blow - open palmed. The troops on the hill hissed and winced.

Mustang nodded once: he got it. It was over. But the burning bile in his heart remained. As he turned, he snicked the blade up - severing Kimbley's hair above the band. It fell to the sand and lay there like so many dead snakes.

Grande's eyes burned, but he sent his subordinate off with little more than another cuff to the head. Mustang stumbled to his knees for a beat but rose again in the same stride.

"Ariadne," he called. "Come."

In a flash, his daemon was beside him, licking the bleeding knuckles of his right hand as they stole off together.

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Look forward to more from Disastergirl! Hope you enjoyed! Let us know your thoughts :p


	2. A Rare Sight

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

**Part of the sketches myself and Disastergirl are doing using the daemons from His Dark Materials. Here's one from Roy and Riza's heady youth^^**

**No beta, so,... you know... :p  
**

**Enjoy!**

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Roy sat perched on top of an old stile, his head thrown back and the sun hot on his face. Master Hawkeye had gone into the city for the weekend which meant that his apprentice's grueling study time was reduced from fourteen hours a day to somewhere around a meaty ten. Anything he didn't finish, he could rush on Sunday evening. As it was, he'd already accomplished seven hours study having risen together with Riza in the early hours to see her father off. Now it was just touching midday and the world, or Borton at least, was his oyster. Ariadne was off prowling in the grass somewhere, hunting butterflies. Behind him, Riza chatted quietly with her friends. He smiled at that. He was happy for her when they dropped by, even if they were a little...

"Roy!"

The young apprentice forced his eyes open and turned where he sat. Theo stood panting in the grass, his black fur shining blue in the sun.

"Mmm?" Roy hummed, though already his eyes were slipping shut again. This weather was glorious.

"Come and join us! Molly's brother is here and he brought strawberries from their farm!" The spaniel looked as pleased as punch. A strange thing considering he wouldn't be eating a single strawberry, or anything else for that matter. Still, Roy supposed the little daemon was happy that Riza could savour them.

_Brother_, Roy thought. It wasn't that tall boy from the year above Roy, was it? The apprentice's face darkened for a moment as he tried to place this mysterious fruit-bearing brother of Molly's. After a time, Roy smiled finally and shook his head. "It's okay Theo. I'm enjoying all this peace ac-"

"Did you say brother?" a smooth voice asked from the other side of the fence.

Both boy and dog looked back to see the dark, grey figure of Ariadne slink under the lowest panel of the old fence.

"He's the blond thing with that scraggly looking cat, isn't he?" asked the equally scraggly looking feline. She had, after all, been chasing down butterflies for the better part of half an hour.

Finally, Molly's brother's face came to Roy. Yes, he _was _that tall boy. The one who, incidentally, had stolen Roy's slingshot when he first came to Borton six years ago.

The little spaniel hopped on his front paws. "Yes! That's him! He's absolutely mad! He's already bare chested and he's chucking strawberries at the girls. He's been to Central and everything. His daemon says he saw the Fuhrer himself!"

"Well... it's one thing _visiting_ Central and quite another _coming_ from there," sneered Ariadne.

Roy scowled a little. "It's sort of indecent, isn't it? I mean those girls are-"

"A whole three years younger than him!" Theo teased, tail wagging. "You aren't jealous at all, Roy, are you?"

The apprentice balked at the accusation, nearly falling off the wooden stile. "You're bonkers if you think I'm jealous of a _strawberry picker!"_

"His daemon - whatshername - is settled, no?" Ariadne put in. "You'd think she could have settled into something a little prettier than a wind-bush."

Theo barked a laugh. "I think she's fun. And isn't it interesting? Meeting a settled daemon our age?"

Roy and Ariadne answered as one: "No."

Theo shook his head and danced a little on his light, white-spotted paws. "Well," he tittered. "Suit yourself!"

With that, the spaniel bounded back towards the group who were squealing and laughing with delight.

Roy's sun-drunk gaze followed the dog's path until his eyes rested on the small assembly. There were the girls, and there was Jimmy Arbuckle wrestling- "Riza!"

The apprentice sprang to his feet, red-hot fire flying to his cheeks. His fists clenched against his will and his stomach dropped into the soles of his shoes.

"And Theo's only gone and made himself a cat... a tortoiseshell at that. God..." grumbled Ariadne.

Roy swallowed, his mood darkening further as the tall blond lifted Riza off her feet and spun her in a wide circle. Crushed strawberries fell from the pair, glinting like rubies.

"Ah hell," the boy said, sitting again with a thud. "What do I care? They're just a load of kids, anyway."

"Mmm," said Ariadne.

Roy closed his eyes again and willed his racing heart to still. "He's probably simple. No harm at all."

"Mmm," purred the cat.

Roy folded his arms and leant back against the post. "Big brute. Absolutely no class."

There was no answer from Ariadne, which Roy took for assent. She must have strayed a little farther this time, for Roy felt the familiar tug of bone-deep tiredness right on the edge of his consciousness; a feeling he only got when she ventured right to her limit, or when she tried to transform beyond her capability. Like the time she went for a Shetland Pony. Wasn't that an embarrassing interlude for them both? It was certainly the last time he'd enter a country alchemy fair.

He turned his mind back to the sun, and freedom and thoughts of the pot of stew Riza had put to the boil earlier that day.

"Yes," he said to himself, satisfied once more. Despite the screaming.

Screaming?

"Ari!" Riza's voice cried, panicked.

Roy's eyes shot open and he fell backwards off the stile in his haste to turn around. Now that he was alert, he could feel it: a fluttering in his heart. His daemon was fighting. Again.

He raced towards the group, the long, thick grass whipping against his bare shins. "Ari!" he cried.

The sound of fighting cats was almost deafening, and the girls who gathered around the whirling chaos didn't help matters much.

Riza, red faced and bright eyed, spun towards Roy with fury written on every inch of her face. "Control her, you idiot!"

Wounded, Roy nodded dumbly and darted into the fray of shuddering grass, striking claws and bristling fur.

Jimmy, shoulder deep in the grass, cast livid eyes up to Roy. "You're daemon is mental! What the hell is wrong with her?"

The cacophony of wailing felines continued as Roy sputtered for a response. "I don't know - she must have been provoked or..." he peetered out, knowing full well that very likely wasn't the case. In the last few months, she'd become even more irritable than normal. Roy had to transmute Master Hawkeye's bookcase back to normal after she tore strips out of it with her mean, little claws.

Spotting a flash of blue/grey in the undulating grass, Roy snatched for it. He missed and the pair of bodies tumbled sideways. Standing, he grunted as he stumbled a little. Black spots floated in front of his eyes and the heat in his cheeks was replaced by a fierce cool. He tottered where he stood. Was Ariadne hurt? The world was tilting on its axis like a lumbering boat. He put a hand to his forehead.

Like a rocket, a distressed ball of fur exploded from the grass and shot up Jimmy's body straight onto his shoulders where it shrank down to a cowering hamster.

"Elly..." Jimmy said, plucking his daemon from his shoulder to inspect it.

"Roy Mustang, your daemon is nothing but a thug!" Riza screamed at him. Beside her, Theo trembled with fright.

"Ari...?" Roy mumbled and hit his knees. The black spots were crowding him a little. He tried to bat them away with his hand.

"Roy?" Riza asked, angry still but newly conscious of his shivering form.

That's when Ariadne, silver furred and triumphant emerged from the grass, her tail sticking up like a flag pole.

Everyone gasped, even Jimmy as he comforted his miniscule daemon with one large hand.

Ariadne had changed into a creature no-one had ever seen in real life before: a pale, muscled snow leopard.

She stalked past the crowd and waited at the edge for Roy to recover, totally unwilling to shrink again - to abandon this new wonder she'd become.

Roy, meanwhile, struggled to find his breath. "You're too big, Ari..." he mumbled, gaining his feet with effort.

Ariadne simply stood and waited, her cool green eyes ghosting across her amazed audience. She flinched, almost imperceptibly when she met Riza's thunderous gaze. Her tail remained sticking rigidly upright, and it swayed wildly – like a deranged pendulum.

Eventually, Roy made it to her. With one hand pressed to his sweating forehead, he turned to apologise.

"Don't bother," Riza said.

Roy bit his lip and stumbled after his new, magnificent daemon.

In his fleeing slumber, Roy reached a heavy hand out to feel for the warm ball of fur curled against his stomach. Ariadne was smaller now, and a pointed ear revealed her feline form. She was still sleeping, probably as worn out by the whole affair as he was.

"Ari?" Roy whispered, stroking the velvet fur of her ear with his thumb. She shifted a little then shivered and curled further in on herself. Roy huffed through his nose and closed his eyes again, quickly falling into the thick warmth of sleep once more.

"You can't sleep all day you know."

Roy's eyes cracked open and he felt Ariadne stir and rise to shaking legs.

"All day?" Roy asked, panicked suddenly. Had he slept all through Saturday night? If he had, he had a long, arduous Sunday before him.

"It's almost six," Riza said.

Roy turned on his side and glanced up to the doorway where Riza stood. She did not look happy. Not in the slightest.

"I'm sorry..." Roy said quietly. "About before. I hope Jimmy's daemon is okay?"

Riza's eyes - hard and assessing - weighed on Roy. Eventually he had to look away. Ariadne, now at his back, was silent. Typical.

"Not your fault," Riza said. "Not really. Besides, I've already wrung an apology out of Ariadne."

Theo appeared beside his master, still a cat. "She's very quiet."

"I think it's called a guilty conscience," Roy mumbled.

A wail issued from behind him, and like a bullet, Ariadne shot to the end of the bed and up the side of the old wardrobe. Her tail whipped the ceiling as she disappeared over the top and hid.

Silence filled the room. It was strange, things being so awkward between him and Riza. Roy hoped it didn't last all weekend. If indeed, there was any more weekend to be had.

"It's six, you said?" he asked. Riza nodded. "On..."

She smiled a little and shook her head. "Saturday, you fool. You don't think I'd let you rot in your bed all weekend, do you? Father would kill you."

Roy smiled back bashfully. "He probably still will when he hears about the fight."

"He won't. Jimmy really is very nice. He won't say anything. Neither will Molly. You're lucky."

Roy blushed deeply and nodded. How embarrassing.

"Riza, I-"

"Dinner's on the table. You'll need your strength back after Ari's stunt. I couldn't rouse you at all after I came back home. She was too big. I don't know what she was trying to prove."

Again, Roy nodded silently. He watched Riza go. Theo paused for a moment at the door before shifting to his spaniel form and trotting after her.

On top of the wardrobe, Ariadne was keening quietly.

"You can come down," Roy said, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes. "I'm the last person you should be hiding from."

There was no answer.

"Riza was mad, huh?" he asked. Again, there was no answer. He stood shakily and took one step before stumbling awkwardly to the bed again. His legs were like jelly. "That was pretty impressive. The form you took. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Yes you have," came the tiny voice from on top of the wardrobe. "But you don't remember."

Roy's eyes darted to the wardrobe. What did she mean?

"My father?" he asked cautiously. He felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. Somewhere in his mind, there was blood and burning drapes, huge sprays of white-hot fire.

Ariadne's small face appeared at the edge of the wardrobe. She shook her head. "Your mother. From very far away. We used to sleep in the curl of her daemon's body. You liked his tail... chewing on it especially. He was very patient."

"Hmm."

"I know I can be better, Roy," Ariadne whispered, eyes cast down and away. Riza really must have given her a talking to. Roy had never seen her like this before.

"Come here, Ariadne," he said, holding his hand open. With a shimmer, Ariadne transformed into a robin and swept down from the wardrobe and into Roy's palm. Her tiny body was trembling with upset and anxiety. Roy winced, moved by how vulnerable his usually proud daemon was. Her little claws barely made a dent in the skin of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I was too proud, and I hurt you. Maybe you'll be too tired to study now?" she asked.

Roy stroked the soft feathers on her back. She closed her eyes and moved from one foot to the other under the care of his fingers. "I'll be fine. I guess Riza really gave you something."

The bird froze and with another shimmer, shrank down to a tiny wren. She fluttered up and clung to the front of his shirt with miniscule claws. She pushed her head against his breast. "She said I hurt you." The bird looked up to its master. "I did, didn't I? She's mad at you now too, and it's all my fault. I hurt you and her, that other daemon and that boy. I made you exhausted. We couldn't wake you up no matter what we tried."

Roy cupped his daemon in his hand and raised her to his face. He smiled at her, moved and perhaps even a little amused. "I'm awake now. Let's just try harder, shall we?"

The wren nodded, and flew back to Roy's lap where she changed into her cat form. "Yes, we-"

"You two!" Riza shouted from down the hall. "It's not enough that you spoil a good afternoon's picnic, you have to spoil dinner as well! Get in here, this instant."

Roy and Ari shot to their feet, almost tripping over one another in their haste to make it to the door. Roy spun on his heel and swept down to catch Ariadne in his arms. He held her to his face again with her legs sticking out at odd angles. "You're a little monster, you know?"

"And you're a smelly, gangly boy," Ariadne squeaked back.

Roy shook her a little and dropped her on his shoulder. He hurried down the hallway, still tired and ego-bruised but a little better at least. He had all weekend to make things up to Riza, and not spoiling dinner was a good place to start. He'd even do the dishes, and that was an even rarer sight than a snow leopard.

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Thanks :p


	3. Out Damn Spot

**Disclaimer – I own nothing. NOTHING!**

**More drabbility from the His Dark Materials daemon borrowing world.**

**Enjoy, and try to review if you can. Things are feeling mighty quiet around here...**

**The idea of Mustang's daemon (soul) was very appealing in regard to Ishbal – that his soul could literally abandon him was too tempting to resist!**

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"Major! Get over here this instant!"

Mustang spun to face his daemon who was pushing herself far back on her haunches, struggling to get away.

"Ari!" he whispered harshly. "What do you think you're doing?"

She whined deep in her throat and continued inching backwards, away from the cliff that overlooked the small town of Balkla. Mustang felt the tug of their bond more keenly than ever before. It curled around his insides, pressing against flesh and bone – urging him to follow his daemon. He didn't want to go either. He knew the job he had to do when he reached that cliff edge. But he had orders.

"Goddamn Ari, do you want me to get court-marshalled?"

The leopard roared at him. Spit flew from her mouth to splash against the rocky outcrop that hid them from the rest of the troops. She wasn't even speaking to him anymore. With a sudden pang of fear -Mustang wondered if she was even capable of speech any longer. Ever since his first town, she'd gotten quieter and more withdrawn until two days ago, when she stopped talking altogether. Now, she skulked around him like a shadow, watching only.

"Major Mustang!" came Grand's voice again. Mustang could also hear the uncertain mumbling of the other men. "Get out here or I'll throw you and your damn cat over the edge of the cliff myself."

Mustang's fingers trembled by his side, and his eyes stung with heat and fear. He was desperately frightened. Staying or going... both were unthinkable.

"Damn you, Major," Grand shouted. Mustang heard the heavy, manacled footfalls coming his way.

"Yes, sir! Coming, sir!" he called back before he had a chance to think. '_What a coward!,' _his mind screamed.

Ariadne roared and reared up on her hind legs. She looked nothing like a daemon now. She was a wild animal, with her lips pulled back showing yellow, vicious teeth.

"Ari... please...," he begged quietly. That meekness, whatever he'd hoped it would achieve only incited further rage.

He took one stepped away from her and nearly choked at the sensation. It felt as though an ice cold hand had suddenly gripped his heart. Ariadne spat and bellowed. It was utterly mad, to walk away from one's daemon, but what choice did he have? What could he possibly do?

He took another step, feeling as though he were walking against a gale. The gripping at his heart grew with each step and by the time he emerged from behind the rocky curtain, he was sweating and faint. He could still hear Ariadne behind him.

He stumbled towards his commander who glared at him with fierce, unreadable eyes. Grand's large boar daemon took a step towards him, sniffing the air with her large, flat nose. Shocked at Ariadne's absence, she turned her huge head to the young alchemist.

"Where's your daemon, Major?" she asked. At the edges of his blurring vision, he saw the other soldiers mutter with suspicion and surprise. Mustang realised miserably that he must look like a man without an arm, or a head! An uncanny, abject sight for the gathered men and their daemons.

The boar kicked the sand at her feet. "Your _daemon, _Major..."

Mustang couldn't speak. He could only shake his head: _"No. She's not here. She's not coming."_ And somewhere in his heart: _"She's smarter than I am. Braver."_

To his surprise, Grand's thick arm circled his shoulder and he was guided to the edge of the cliff. He leaned heavily on the Colonel, panting for air with a mouth dry and full of sand.

"Come here, man," Grand said quietly. "We have our orders. Let's not prolong this."

Mustang nodded dumbly and raised his hand to snap but the world was too unsteady, rocking crazily from side to side. The Colonel's grip tightened on his shoulder.

"Close your eyes. Major. Makes it easier."

Mustang did as he was told, taking note of where the town lay. A moment later he snapped. The world turned white beyond his eyelids. He heard shouting - screams, but they came from very far away. The pain in his chest flared. He cried out, was muffled by a dry hand and then... nothing.

OoO

He was dreaming of a white expanse. Beneath his feet, was nothing but cool, grey cement and above him: an empty, grey sky. He was crying in his dream, but he didn't know why.

"Hey," said Hughes. It woke him: that one word.

The first thing he felt was a bruising in his breast. His heart beat frantically, thundering against his ribs. He knew that Ariadne was not in his tent. Horror gripped him.

"Where is she?" he whispered harshly, too tired to sound panicked.

Hughes, who was seated on the edge of his low cot, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "She's a little way off," he answered. He swallowed then, seeming uncomfortable. He took his friend's hand, as Cassie mounted his shoulder. "Roy..." he started slowly. "How can she do that? How can she go so far?"

Mustang's stomach plummeted at those words. How indeed... _Because she hates me. Because she hates here. Because it's easier for her to leave me than to be at my side._

"I..." he coughed. His cheeks flared with shame. "I don't know."

He caught Cassie's eyes and glanced away again quickly. Small as she was, the little Pine Marten could make an impact when she wanted to. He was being judged in the most disagreeable way: they didn't understand. How could someone _endure_such a thing?

"I don't know," he said again quietly, then rolled onto his side. He didn't want to look at Hughes and his daemon any more than he wanted to remember the previous night's dreadful work.

"Roy," Hughes said, tapping his shoulder.

Mustang closed his eyes.

"Okay, Roy. Okay."

OoO

After two days of torture without her, he finally saw his daemon. She lay against a shaded rock, panting deeply. He could see, even from a distance, that her fur was mangy and bare. Her tail was matted and balding, and hung lankly behind her. She looked toward him coolly with two dull, unwelcoming eyes.

He didn't approach her, thinking better of it, and went to the rations tent instead. As he was about to enter, boisterous voices from inside carried through the canvas. They were talking about him. Nowadays, a lot of people were. Crimson was growing ever more volatile, Strongarm had lost his mind, and the Flame Alchemist...

"I heard he made some sort of pact... some alchemy thing..."

"Yeah - you don't get that sort of power for free. He's sold his daemon off. That's what someone from his academy year said."

"You hear about his parents? Died in _suspicious_ circumstances... kid Mustang was the only one around apparently..."

"Man though - his fireworks. I saw him pop a whole troop of Ishballans open back at Araran. Looked like confetti..."

The alchemist sighed and swallowed. A dark part of his heart whispered of the things he could do to _those_ men if he chose too, but the voice disappeared almost as soon as it had come.

Again, Mustang turned on his heel, retracing his steps back to his tent. Ari's telling growl rumbled across the sand as he passed her. This was going to kill them both. His heart was breaking. He must be the only man in the world whose daemon chose to abandon him, or jettison him. She chose isolation, pain and loneliness rather than witness his evil, vile work. Too big to hide anywhere, she had to content herself with slinking around the camp, scaring soldiers and daemons alike. He heard her at night sometimes, yowling out amongst the cool, white sands.

He'd made her that. He wanted her to be big, and to be grand, and now it was for precisely that reason that she had nowhere in the world to escape. She was stuck in the body of a coveted, vicious beast, when in reality, it was she who showed discretion, she who showed compassion. If she were a bird, she could fly away and maybe kill them both.

That evening, he cried for hours, never leaving his tent.

Several days later, one of his back teeth came loose and fell out when he was brushing. He had a more or less constant migraine and all he could keep down was the rice. Everything else had him bent over the toilet for hours. When he saw Ariadne sloping behind a munitions tent, the buttresses of her ribs were clear through her tatty, patchy fur. He was dying, he knew. Ishbal was killing him. His own cowardice too.

One week later, victory was declared. He was promoted on the field, but he was absent from the ceremony – brought low by a dangerous, undiagnosable fever. According to Hughes, Ariadne never strayed too far from his tent, but she didn't speak to anyone and made no enquiry about her master.

She was, however, waiting by the train two days hence; just where Mustang was to board.

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Thanks!


	4. Love Cats

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

**I needed a little fun with this, so I decided to run with some Olivier/Mustang banter. Props to Antigone Rex for the Cougar idea. Perfect!  
**

**Enjoy.**

**This is probably somewhere in the early days of Roy's role as Colonel. For kicks only. Also, we're assuming Roy and Riza are banging on the sly :p**

**We're still taking requests... sorta^^**

**(remember, no beta and I wrote this in about 40minutes so, eh, sorry!)  
**

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Grumman, as he was wont to do, had requested a multi-agency training event. He wanted to analyse both command units to see if there were any areas for improvement, or so he said. Mustang had a sneaking suspicion that the old fart just wanted to shake things up a little. Grumman 'drew lots' (apparently) and lo and behold, General Olivier Armstrong was selected together with him, the 'fledgling Colonel.' Mustang won the second draw for location and so Armstrong, together with her elite cabinet of sorts, journeyed to the dense forests outside East City.

The Hanhwa Resort was a pleasant place, no doubt. There was a bar for starters. However, wherever the General went, a dark cloud was sure to follow. Olivier commandeered the entire fourth floor together with the hotel's only sauna. Moreover, she demanded that the pool be covered lest the troops should be tempted to, oh, have some fun.

The induction meeting started at seven o'clock that morning and was _still going_ at lunch time. Mustang was making the most of it. Riling General Armstrong just so happened to be one of his favourite hobbies. Lucky him. His team were not quite as thrilled. Fuery looked positively green and Breda kept opening his eyes, wide as plates, to keep from falling asleep. The teams' daemons, less able to school their emotions long ago began to show signs of restlessness. Fuery's little otter was in the corner building a small wall out of knives and forks, while Breda's badger was marching up and down the wall in a bid to keep his master awake. Only Falman's bright-eyed stork was alert, watching proceedings with intense interest.

"And why should I listen to you, Mustang?" Armstrong scoffed.

Mustang grinned at her unabashedly. "If you want a fully itemised list we might be here a while." He drank noisily from his lukewarm coffee. "Still, I'm a little hurt that you need a reminder of why I'm so wonderful."

"You're an idiot."

Havoc chuckled at that, hiding his giggling behind his hand before Hawkeye had a chance to glare at him. His daemon, a very long-legged red setter, ducked her head at Theo in apology. Theo puffed through his nose the glanced around for Ariadne. She and the General's pale cougar, Tork had taken themselves off to the edge of the wide, windowed room. Tork positively dwarfed Ariadne who slinked about on her short, strong legs, sniffing plants and leaping onto the patio furniture. Theo laughed when her tail swung around and slapped the larger cat on the jaw. Tork sneezed and glared at her.

_Honeslty, _thought Theo, _these egotistical officers and their big cats..._

"I'm an idiot," Mustang smiled back. "My records beg to differ. I outdid you at nine out of ten-"

"Your staff are idiots," Armstrong continued. Havoc stopped giggling. The General nodded to Hawkeye. "The Lieutenant excluded."

"Thank you, sir," Hawkeye said quietly, ignoring her commander's betrayed look.

"I must say, you're particularly feisty today, General. Nervous about our little training exercise, maybe?"

The General threw her head back and laughed like a pirate. Her long pale hair whipped behind her. Breda sank a little lower in his seat. Eventually, she gathered herself and slapped both hands down on the table top. "Nervous? You should have gone to clown school, Mustang, not the academy. I can't wait to give you a thoroughly good spanking!"

Mustang blinked at her, as did the rest of the table. Havoc made a strange squirting noise into his jacket sleeve. Not for the first time, his mind was tempted to make a joke about her infamously great double entendres and her cougar daemon. She'd eat Mustang alive.

Another noise soon followed. It was odd... like sawing: low and monotonous. A few soldiers looked around, checking for the sound's source.

Hawkeye fixed her eyes on her commander, silently begging him not to go where she knew he would. Her face darkened when he pointedly ignored her quiet, pleading eyes.

He actually _winked_. "I should look forward to that very mu-"

There was a deafening crash. Everyone at the table jumped in their seats. The sawing noise was joined by second sound: heavy and full of breath. Mustang was about to stand to investigate when, quite suddenly, one of those little quirks of biology kept him in his seat. Quite out of the blue, his heart was racing. He delicately fixed his cavalry skirt. It must have been all that talk of spanking. And the General really did have fabulous hair. Theo looked up at his master who was eyeing Mustang suspiciously, then trotted towards the Colonel for closer inspection. Mustang kept the alsation's prying away with one hand.

"Tork!" Armstrong roared. She stood, thankfully taking some of the heat off Mustang. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned where he sat. He could not believe what he saw.

Tork was madly pawing the floor, his thin tail whipping back and forth wildly. He made a sort of barking noise, approaching Ariadne before scuttling away again. Ariadne look equally dignified...

...she was backing towards Tork's face with her huge tail sticking straight into the air. She growled lowly. There was that sawing noise again.

A potted fern had not survived their activities. It lay sideways on the floor and appeared to be absolutely drench in cat... liquid.

"Tork!" Armstrong spat. She spun to Mustang. "What is your daemon _doing_, Mustang?"

Mustang shook his head dumbly and swallowed. "Ariadne?" he asked quietly, not at all liking where this was going. Behind him, Havoc was doubled over, punching the desk with one hand.

Tork circled the leopard once then bounded up to her, prancing on his front paws. He licked his dripping maw, closed his eyes and pushed his nose forwards-

"Meeting adjourned!" Mustang and Armstrong squealed as one.

Havoc nearly choked, Breda issued a mightily amused series of 'haws' and Miles dropped his head with a sigh. Hawkeye was already strolling towards the doors, opening them up to the small room where lunch was prepared.

"That was interesting," Theo said quietly, watching his master carefully.

"Mmm," Hawkeye answered with a wry smile.

Nodding to each guest as they left, she paused Mustang with a touch to his elbow.

"There are some cold showers on the second floor, sir."

"Kindly be quiet, Lieutenant."

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**Thanks!**


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